What's your favorite middle aged song?

Dec 2015
the United States of America
I was just wanting to know, what was/is ur favorite song of the Middle Ages? To kick off mine is palastinalied.
Original version:
Nû lebe ich mir alrêrst werde,
sît mîn sündic ouge sihet
daz hêre lant und ouch die erde,
der man vil der êren gihet.
Nû ist geschehen, des ich ie bat:
ich bin komen an die stat,
dâ got mennischlîchen trat.

Schœniu lant rîch unde hêre,
swaz ich der noch hân gesehen,
sô bist dûz ir aller êre.
Waz ist wunders hie geschehen!
Daz ein maget ein kint gebar,
hêre über aller engel schar,
was daz niht ein wunder gar?

Hie liez er sich reine toufen,
daz der mensche reine sî.
Dô liez er sich hie verkoufen,
daz wir eigen wurden frî.
Anders wæren wir verlorn.
Wol dir, sper, kriuze unde dorn!
Wê dir, heiden, daz ist dir zorn!

Dô er sich wolte übr uns erbarmen,
hie leit er den grimmen tôt,
er vil rîche durch uns armen,
daz wir kœmen ûz der nôt.
Daz in dô des niht verdrôz,
dast ein wunder alze grôz,
aller wunder übergenôz.

Hinnen fuor der sun zer helle
von dem grabe, dâ er inne lac.
Des was ie der vater geselle,
und der geist, den nieman mac
sunder scheiden: êst al ein,
sleht und ebener danne ein zein,
als er Abrahâme erschein.

Dô er den tievel dô geschande,
daz nie keiser baz gestreit,
dô fuor er her wider ze lande.
Dô huob sich der juden leit,
daz er herre ir huote brach,
und daz man in sît lebendic sach,
den ir hant sluoc unde stach.

Dar nâch was er in dem lande
vierzic tage: dô fuor er dar,
dannen in sîn vater sande.
Sînen geist, der uns bewar,
den sante er hin wider zehant.
Heilic ist daz selbe lant:
sîn name, der ist vor gote erkant.

In diz lant hât er gesprochen
einen angeslîchen tac,
dâ diu witwe wirt gerochen
und der weise klagen mac
und der arme den gewalt,
der dâ wirt an ime gestalt.
Wol ime dort, der hie vergalt!

Unser lantrehtære tihten
fristet dâ niemannes klage;
wan er wil dâ zestunt rihten,
sô ez ist an dem lesten tage:
swer deheine schulde hie lât
unverebenet, wie der stât
dort, dâ er pfant noch bürgen hât!

Kristen, juden unde heiden
jehent, daz diz ir erbe sî:
got müeze ez ze rehte scheiden
durch die sîne namen drî.
Al diu werlt diu strîtet her.
Wir sîn an der rehten ger:
reht ist, daz er uns gewer.

Nû lât iuch des niht verdriezen,
daz ich noch gesprochen hân.
Ich wil iu die rede entsliezen
kurzlîch und iuch wizzen lân,
swaz got mit dem menschen ie
wunders in der werlt begie,
daz huop sich und endet hie.
Dec 2015
the United States of America
One of the rules on this forum is that you must post in English or provide a translation in English.
Historum - History Forums - Announcements in Forum : New Users
Ok sorry about that. English version:
Now my life has gained its meaning
since these sinful eyes behold
the sacred land with meadows greening
whose renown is often told.
This was granted me from God:
to see the land, the holy sod,
which in human form He trod.

Splendid lands of wealth and power,
I’ve seen many, far and near,
yet of all are you the flower.
What a wonder happened here!
That a maid a child should bear,
Lord of all the angels fair,
was not this a wonder rare?

Here was He baptized, the Holy,
that all people might be pure.
Here He died, betrayed and lowly,
that our bonds should not endure.
Else our fate had been severe.
Hail, O cross, thorns and spear!
Heathens, woe! Your rage is clear.

Out of pity for us,
He suffered here the cruel parting.
Out of pity for us
He, the Almighty, allowed cursing.
For us to escape misery,
it is an immeasurable prodigy,
more than any other prodigy.

Then to hell the Son descended
from the grave in which He lay,
by the Father still attended,
and the Spirit whom none may give a name:
in one are three,
an arrowshaft in unity.
This did Abraham once see.

When He there defeated Satan,
ne’ er has kaiser battled so,
He returned, our ways to straighten.
Then the Jews had fear and woe:
watch and stone were both in vain,
He appeared in life again,
whom their hands had struck and slain.

Thereafter he walked this land,
for forty days: then He ascended,
from whence His Father had him on errand.
His Spirit, may He protect us from the wicked,
He at once sent back down.
Holy is this very town,
its name, is by God known.

To this land, so He has spoken,
shall a fearful judgment come.
Widows’ bonds shall then be broken
and the orphans’ foe be dumb,
and the poor no longer cower
under sad misuse of power.
Woe to sinners in that hour!

All the judgement of an earthly court,
will give no man respite from accusation,
for He will want at once to sort,
for the Last Day annunciation:
whoever leaves a single sin,
unatoned here, how bereft he will stand facing Him,
where he has neither surety nor kin.

Christians, heathen, Jews, contending,
claim it as a legacy.
May God judge with grace unending
through his blessed Trinity.
Strife is heard on every hand:
ours the only just demand,
He will have us rule the land.

Now do not ignore,
what I have recited.
My wish was to briefly explore,
the discourse and to you I have presented,
all the wonder that God has unfurled,
upon man in this world,
they began and ended here in this emerald.
Sep 2012
Tarkington, Texas
You might want to alter that title of the thread. I saw it and immediately started thinking of my favorite 70's songs!



Ad Honorem
Jul 2014
Lower Styria, Slovenia
Walther von der Vogelweide, in middle high German:

Owê war sint verswunden alliu mîniu jâr?
Ist mîn leben mir getroumet oder ist ez wâr?
Daz ich ie wânde, daz iht waere, was daz iht?
Dar nâch hân ich geslâfen und enweiz ez niht.
Nû bin ich erwachet und ist mir unbekant,
daz mir hie vor was kündic als mîn ander hant.
Liute unde lant, dar inn ich von kinde bin erzogen,
die sint mir fremde worden reht als ob ez sî gelogen.
Die mîne gespiln wâren, die sint traege unde alt.
Bereitet ist daz velt, verhouwen ist der walt.
Wan daz daz wazzer fliuzet als ez wîlent floz,
für wâr ich wânde mîn ungelücke wurde grôz.
Mich grüezet maniger trâge, der mich bekande ê wol.
Diu welt ist allenthalben ungnâden vol.
Als ich gedenke an manigen wünneclîchen tac,
die mir sint enpfallen als in daz mer ein slac,
iemer mêre ouwê.

Owê wie jaemerlîche junge liute tuont,
den ê vil wünneclîche ir gemüete stuont.
Die kunnen niuwan sorgen, ouwê wie tuont si sô?
Swar ich zer werlte kêre, dâ ist nieman vrô.
Tanzen, singen zergât mit sorgen gar.
Nie kristen man gesach sô jaemerlîchiu jâr.
Nû merkent wie den frouwen ir gebende stât,
Die stolzen ritter tragent dörpellîche wât.
Uns sint unsenfte brieve her von Rôme komen.
Uns ist erloubet trûren und fröide gar benomen.
Daz müet mich inneclîchen sêre, (wir lebten ie vil wol)
daz ich nû für mîn lachen weinen kiesen sol.
Die wilden vogel betrüebet unser klage.
waz wunders ist ob ich dâvon verzage?
Waz spriche ich tumber man durch mînen boesen zorn?
Swer dirre wünne volget, der hât jene dort verlorn.
Iemer mêr ouwê.

Owê wie uns mit süezen dingen ist vergeben!
Ich sihe die bittern gallen mitten in dem honege sweben.
Diu Welt ist ûzen schoene, wîz, grüen unde rôt,
und innen swarzer varwe vinster sam der tôt.
Swen si nû verleitet habe, der schouwe sînen trôst.
Er wirt mit swacher buoze grôzer sünde erlôst.
Dar an gedenkent, ritter, ez ist iuwer dinc.
Ir tragent die liehten helme und manegen herten rinc,
dar zuo die vesten schilte und diu gewîhten swert.
Wolte got, waer ich der signünfte wert.
So wolte ich nôtic man verdienen rîchen solt.
Joch meine ich niht die huoben noch der herren golt.
Ich wolte selbe krône eweclîchen tragen,
die möhte ein soldenaer mit sîme sper bejagen.
Möhte ich die lieben reise gevarn über sê,
so wolte ich denne singen wol unde niemer mê ouwê,
niemer mêr ouwê.

In English:

Whither are fled my years, alas, now lost to view?
Did I but dream my life, and was it not all true?
What I imagined there, come, tell me, was it so?
Since then I've slumbered deep, for now I do not know.
Waking at last, nothing I recognise
Of old, accustomed sights, familiar to my eyes.
Folk and that land, where I was reared in youth,
All strange to me have grown, as it were some untruth.
Weary my former playmates are, beset by eld;
The land is all ploughed up, and what was forest, felled.
Did not the water flow, as it flowed heretofore,
I'd think my sadness great, ne'er to be lightened more.
Many now greet me idly, who me knew right well,
Throughout the whole wide world nought does of kindness tell.
Many's the blissful day that I do oft recall,
Now lost to me, as stones cast in the sea do fall –
Alas and lack-a-day!

How mis'rably young folk, alas, do now behave;
Of unrepentant mind, can anything them save?
Why given o'er, I ask, to nought but care?
Whichever way I turn, sadness is everywhere.
Dancing and song are silenced in unease,
No Christian ever viewed such wretched times as these.
Their kerchiefs, see, suit our good dames but ill,
Proud knights go clad in homespun or in twill.
Harsh missives to us here have late from Rome been sent,
Bringing us nought but grief, with all our joy forspent.
It vexes me right sore (we who did happy dwell)
That, giving up all mirth, tears from my eyes should well.
Our plaints oppress the wild birds of the air.
Small wonder if I, too, am plunged in despair.
Yet I'm a fool, these wrathful words to choose;
Pursuing earthly bliss , we only Heaven' s lose.
Alas and lack-a-day!

What venom in the sweets of life, alas, does fall !
For I see, floating in the midst of honey, gall.
In outward guise, all beauty – white, green and red –
Within, the World is blackness: dark, like to dead.
Yet whom She’s led astray may still of cheer have sight;
What though his sin be great, his penance shall be light.
Remember that, you Knights, look that you do not fail;
You bear bright helmets all and suits of stoutest mail,
With bucklers strong thereto and consecrated swords.
Could I, please God, that triumph gain which worth affords,
Then could I, now but poor, earn yet a gen’rous meed;
Though not with princes’ gold nor lands would I be fee’d.
To wear a heavenly crown – for that I yearn:
Such trophy with his spear a man-at-arms could earn.
Might I across the sea that voyage blest essay,
My song would be ‘oh, joy!’ and no more ‘lack-a-day!’
No more ‘lack-a-day!’

I also like Der fahrendt Schuler in Paradeiß (the wandering student in paradise) by Hans Sachs, but I'm not sure if that still counts as medieval.
Jul 2015

by Raimbaut de Vaqueiras - 1.200-ish.

Altas undas que venez suz la mar
que fay lo vent çay e lay demenar
de mun amic sabez novas comtar,
qui lay passet? No lo vei retornar!
Et oy Deu, d'amor!
Ad hora.m dona joi et ad hora dolor!

Oy, aura dulza, qui vens dever lai
Un mun amic dorm e sejorn' e jai,
Del dolz aleyn un beure m'aporta.y!
La bocha obre, per gran desir qu'en ai.
Et oy Deu, d'amor!
Ad hora.m dona joi e ad hora dolor!

Mal amar fai vassal d'estran païs,
Car en plor tornan e sos jocs e sos ris.
Ja nun cudey mun amic me traÿs,
qu'eu li doney ço que d'amor me quis.
Et oy Deu, d'amor!
Ad hora.m dona joi e ad hora dolor!

Tall waves coming over the sea,
which the wind makes sway hither and thither
do you have any news of my lover,
who crossed the sea? I can't see him coming back!
Ah, god, this love!
Sometimes it gives me joy and sometimes pain!

O sweet breeze, who come from down there
where my lover sleeps and dwells and lies,
bring me here a goblet of his sweet breath!
I open my mouth out of the craving I have.
Ah, god, this love!
Sometimes it gives me joy and sometimes pain!

It hurts to love a warrior from a foreign land,
for his embraces and laughter turn to weeping.
Never did I think my friend would betray me,
since I gave him all the love he requested.
Ah, god, this love!
Sometimes it gives me joy and sometimes pain!


Ad Honorem
May 2016
by Raimbaut de Vaqueiras - 1.200-ish.
Good choice Spikey.

I'm middle aged! But I can never decide what my favourite song is, too many
Same here. But, in other perspective, this is an international forum. Maybe Americanknight’s mother language is not English and he didn’t understand the error in the title thread. Initially I also found odd this thread in the “Medieval and Byzantine History” section.

Jim Casy

Ad Honorem
Mar 2013
O fortunas comes to mind.

A friend and I arrived back at his flat in the early hours, after a night of clubbing and having failed to score, and decided to put it on. The version put to music, on this occasion Andre Previn was throwing everything including the kitchen sink at it. We were too hammered to figure out what was wrong with his amp, so he just kept turning up the volume until it was loud enough. We sat back and let it power over us, beers in hand, then listened again. Then Paul remembered he'd moved the speakers to his bedroom over-looking the street so he could chill at night :confused:. The street must have been looking up at the sky thinking the end of the world was coming. It was one powerful rig he had.

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